


Karkat's First Christmas Tree

by Errorcode254



Series: Davekat Christmas drabbles [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, M/M, More Fluff, i have davekat christmas feels, not sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-05 22:45:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5393054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Errorcode254/pseuds/Errorcode254
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Karkat Vantas, and you're really fucking confused right now. </p><p>You were walking along, minding your own business when you happened to pass by Kanaya and Rose, who were laughing at a tree. A fucking tree. In their room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Karkat's First Christmas Tree

**Author's Note:**

> this was just supposed to be an explanation of the disaster of putting up xmas trees with karkat but it ended up kinda cute and fluffy and i like it.

Your name is Karkat Vantas, and you're really fucking confused right now. 

You were walking along, minding your own business when you happened to pass by Kanaya and Rose, who were laughing at a tree. A fucking tree. In their room. Why the fuck would anyone have a tree in their rooms, and why would they be laughing at it? It's not like it could tell a joke. Well, you're pretty sure it couldn't, anyway. 

And that's pretty much why you're getting really fucking annoyed at your douche-purse of a boyfriend, who is not going to be your boyfriend for long if he doesn't stop fucking laughing at you and start explaining about the stupid tree. You're beginning to regret even asking him about it, but now you're even more curious. You cross your arms and huff, grumbling over his laughter. 

“Listen, Strider. I just wanna know what's so fucking funny about a fucking stick with leaves, and why the fuck they have one inside. Why can't they go outside and laugh at it?”

He's still laughing at you and you're almost certain that he's going to stop breathing if he keeps it up. Of course, it's possible that you'll be the cause of his diminished breathing abilities. 

Finally, the punk-ass bitch stops laughing and wipes his eyes, and at this point, you don't even care about the answer to your question. You just want to walk away and not see him for like a week. Or a day. Or an hour. Depending on when you decide you miss him. Instead, you stand there, waiting for the idiot to catch his breath and explain the situation. 

“It's a _Christmas_ tree”, he says. Like that fucking explains anything to you at all. You just look at him and blink, because really. That means absolutely shit all to you and if he's gonna explain it, he'd better do it properly.  
He sighs when you say nothing and motions for you to sit beside him. Which probably means this is gonna be a long-ass story. Great. Might as well get comfortable. 

He doesn't start talking again 'til you're sitting beside him, and his head is leaning on your shoulder. 

“Ok, so a Christmas tree is put in the main room of a house where everyone can see it. It's put up at the end of the year and presents go underneath it to celebrate surviving for an extra year, or some crap. And you decorate the tree with lights and baubles and tinsel and other sparkly shit, and usually a star or angel on top. Which is probably why they were laughing. They would have been decorating it. And then, at almost the end of the year, you get to open the presents underneath.” 

He continues ranting. Something about a guy that wears red and breaks into your house the night before you get to open the presents. Which, you figure, is how you can tell when it's time to open them. Mostly though, you're interested in the tree, and you interrupt him halfway through his explanation of the fat guy that manages to fit down the chimney, which is pretty much just the waste-chute of human dwellings – wait. You're pretty sure you translated that wrong. 

“Where do we get a tree to live inside?” You ask, interested in the process of Christmas. You've obviously had gift giving celebrations before, but this was different. And not that you'll admit it, even if you were tortured, but you kind of want to understand and be included in this part of Dave's life. After arguing with him about it being a 'dumb holiday for kids' (“I don't care, bulge-sheath. I wanna do it”), he finally agreed to alchemise a tree and decorations. And just like that, you're smiling for the first time since you saw the tree in Rose's room.

***

So here you are. Standing in one of the rooms you share with Dave, looking up at the monstrosity that he's created for you. It's not like the tree that Rose had. This one is almost double your height and you have no idea how you're supposed to decorate the damn thing. There are about seven boxes of decorations and you're pretty sure you went overboard when you insisted that you wanted the shiniest, most spectacular tree in existence. But how the fuck were you supposed to know that your idiot boyfriend was going to take you literally?

You're looking up at this fucking tree, and your eyes swing back to Dave, who is still fucking with the stupid alchemiser (“Seriously, Dave. We have enough”) and you refuse to admit that you're absolutely terrified. And ecstatic. And kind of intimidated? Whatever. 

You root through the various boxes of decorations for a minute before you finally decide that it would be so much easier if they were spread out so that you could actually _see_ what you have. And that's exactly what Dave finds when he returns his attention to you. Well, mostly. 

You're surrounded by piles of decorations, and you're pretty sure you can't decorate the entire tree. For starters, you're not exactly 7ft tall. So you begin to unload the decorations onto the branches of the tree. The ones you can reach, anyway, and Dave comes over to help. Although, you're pretty sure it's not called helping if he can't reach that much higher than you. 

It's not long until you've run out of decorations, and you have to admit, you're pretty proud of your first attempt at a Christmas tree. Even if the decorations only reach about halfway up, and your star is balanced precariously on the highest branch that Dave could reach. Next year, you'll insist on a smaller tree. One that you can both reach, that won't look bald after 4ft. 

“It's ironic”, he tells you as he wraps his arms around your waist from behind and rests his chin on your shoulder. 

“Idiot.” You reply, hiding a smile as you lean back into his chest and just like that, you're pretty sure you love the dickhead.

**Author's Note:**

> Send me prompts at nopethefuckout.tumblr.com


End file.
